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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26764207">we're bound to break and my hands are tied</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/George_the_Pumpkin/pseuds/George_the_Pumpkin'>George_the_Pumpkin</a>, <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darkness34/pseuds/Run%20Im%20A%20Natural%20Disaster'>Run Im A Natural Disaster (Darkness34)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Run! and George Do Whumptober 2020 [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Merlin (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Day 1: Let's Hang Out Sometime, Day 26: If You Thought The Head Trauma Was Bad, Day 5: Where Do You Think You're Going, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt, Failed escape, Gen, Guilt, Headaches &amp; Migraines, I have no idea what I'm doing, I wrote this hastily and with abandon, Please be gentle, Temporary Blindness, Torture, Whump, Whumptober 2020, Worried Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), happy whumptober everyone, my first Merlin fanfiction, shackled, what's a plot?</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 02:54:54</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>13,542</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26764207</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/George_the_Pumpkin/pseuds/George_the_Pumpkin, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darkness34/pseuds/Run%20Im%20A%20Natural%20Disaster</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Well, this is a nice change of scenery.”</p><p>“It’s a prison cell.”</p><p>“I was being sarcastic, Merlin.” </p><p>-</p><p>Captured by bandits, Merlin and Arthur wake up to find themselves imprisoned in an unfamiliar castle. Shackled and with no way to escape they suddenly find themselves at the mercy of an old enemy who will stop at nothing to obtain knowledge of the vaults beneath Camelot.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Merlin &amp; Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), past Merlin and Morgana friendship</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Run! and George Do Whumptober 2020 [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1950496</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>76</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Let's Hang Out Sometime</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Set between The Fires of Idirsholas and The Last Dragonlord.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Well, this is a nice change of scenery.”</p><p>“It’s a prison cell.” Merlin cast unbelieving eyes at the absolutely <em> moronic </em>prince he had the displeasure of being imprisoned with. Was Arthur really this stupid? </p><p>It wasn’t even a nice cell. </p><p>Little more than a hole in the ground, really. The floor was roughly hewn with stone and dirt, the walls damp, gray stone that were frigid to the touch. </p><p>Goosebumps rose on his shoulders from where they were unceremoniously pressed against the wall. </p><p>The lone door to the cell was elevated, a single layer of stone running underneath it; just high enough that one would have to step down in order to enter the cell. Light shone weakly through the cracks in its surface. Providing just enough light that Merlin was able to make out Arthur’s silhouette in the gloom.</p><p>“I was being sarcastic, <em> Merlin. </em>” said stupid prince gritted out. His blue eyes glaring at him incredulously, like it was Merlin who was being a bloody idiot. </p><p>Merlin scoffed, turned his face away, and dragged a heel through the dirt of the cell.  </p><p>Stupid prince.</p><p>Never taking anything seriously.</p><p>Acting like it was the highlight of his day to be stuck in a dingy hole in the ground that was barely big enough for the both of them. The cell was barely a man’s length across and two men’s length long. </p><p>Merlin’s toes could have brushed against the opposite wall if he stretched his legs out.</p><p>His shoulders ached from where they were wretched backward, his wrists dangling from the chains shackling them to the wall. </p><p>His neck and shoulders cried out from the uncomfortable position, begged piteously for some relief that stubbornly would not come. </p><p>A quick glance confirmed that Arthur was faring no better.</p><p>Like Merlin, his arms were strung high above his head. Blood stained the left side of his face. A leftover from the skirmish Merlin doesn’t remember fighting. Though one thing’s for certain, they must have lost and lost <em> badly </em>before being dragged to who-knows-where. </p><p>Nasty purple bruises were blossoming like morbid flowers on Arthur’s skin, barely visible beneath the collar of his torn shirt, decorating his face and arms. </p><p>His armor having seemingly been lost somewhere between then and now.  </p><p>It looked no more comfortable than it felt and Merlin winced. His own strained shoulders ached in empathy.</p><p>At least, Merlin thought, they were able to sit. </p><p>At least they weren’t forced to stand on tiptoe, on bowed legs as they were forced to stand for hours and hours. All their weight balanced on the delicate stretch of their wrists, manacles parting the flesh of their wrists as they hung; no relief to be found. </p><p>Merlin had heard the horror stories whispered between the knights who’d been held prisoner by Morgana. Of the grief and torment they shared between them like wine, hidden, concealed in the cover of night. Heedless of the serving boy who eavesdropped just around the corner. </p><p>The serving boy who shouldn’t have even been out of bed and yet…</p><p>There he was.  </p><p>It had been unintentional.</p><p>An honest mistake unthinkingly made as he snuck down to the catacombs to visit Kilgharrah. He’d frozen in place when he’d heard the voices ahead of him, unable to leave, unwilling to listen, unable to do both.</p><p>He remembered the horror and grief and disgust that had raged through him as he’d listened. </p><p>Heart sore and sorrowful in the face of such callousness. </p><p>How could people do this to each other? </p><p>How could <em> Morgana </em> have done this? </p><p>Morgana who had always been so caring and stalwart in her dedication to others and life. Who had protested time and time again against injustice and cruelty. </p><p>Who had fought beside him in Ealdor simply because she’d cared for him.</p><p>Morgana who he had ripped to shreds himself. </p><p>It was him who had broken her down, reworked her entire being with a single drink of poisoned wine. </p><p>Who had turned her into a <em> monster. </em></p><p>How, how, how…</p><p>He squeezed his eyes shut, leaned his head against the wall.</p><p>Being forced to hang would have been no less than he deserved.</p><p>But still, a small, traitorous part of Merlin was unbearably glad that they’d (<em> he’d </em>) been spared that particular pain. </p><p>The thought wracked him with guilt.</p><p>It was cowardly.</p><p>It was shameful.</p><p>It felt everything he’d been trying so hard not to be. </p><p>Not to be the child who cowered at the mere thought of pain. Who cringed away from the very mention of magic in fear. Who had dreamed of burning fire eating away at him, breaking him down piece by piece, choking him with smoke and sweltering heat while he screamed and screamed and screamed.</p><p>He cringed.</p><p>Okay, maybe he was still a <em> little </em>afraid of being burned at the stake but, he was supposed to be Arthur’s shield.</p><p>And shields didn’t falter in the face of a little fire, a little danger, he scolded himself.</p><p>Merlin mentally shook himself. </p><p>This was no time to be thinking of these things.</p><p>First, things first, he had to figure out how they had gotten here, where here even was, and, most importantly, how they were going to escape.</p><p>“How do we keep getting into these situations?”</p><p>“Two years of friendship and I still don’t know.”</p><p>Merlin snorted, a grin lighting his face. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”</p><p>Arthur’s eyes glittered with mirth, “Well if you actually said what was on your mind instead of dancing ‘round the issue like a <em> girl </em> we wouldn’t have this problem, would we?”</p><p>“We can't all be reckless brutes. But really, how did we get here?”</p><p>“Bandits. They knocked you out pretty early on in the fight and I got knocked out trying to keep your stupid head on your shoulders.”</p><p>Merlin stuck his tongue out at him, “My dearest apologies Princess Prat. Not all of us can be meatheads like you.” </p><p>"I always knew you were a wimp, Merlin. There’s no need to be ashamed,” he teased. “We all have our different strengths and yours is just…,” he trailed off. </p><p>If Merlin’s hands were free he would have thrown something.</p><p><em> Stupid </em>prince.</p><p>“<em>Anyway</em>, what’s our exit strategy?”</p><p>“Our what?”</p><p>“Oh my god, we’re going to die.”</p><p>“Now, see here, Merlin-”</p><p>The banter was easy, familiar, and Merlin let himself fall into it gratefully. </p><p>A comforting anchor in this frightening, anomalous situation.</p><p>A light in the dark. </p><p>He can almost pretend that they’re not being held captive in some dank, dungeon just waiting for what comes next.  </p><p>He wonders if it’s as comforting to Arthur as it is to him.</p><p>He hoped so.</p><p>Time ambled by slowly, the lack of windows and the inky blackness messing with his sense of time.</p><p>So they talked and they teased and tried to ignore the looming danger ahead of them.</p><p>Merlin’s was in the middle of passionately arguing about why these hunting trips are a bad idea and how they should stop partaking in them immediately when the door opens.</p><p>The sudden influx of light was blinding.</p><p>Tears immediately welled up from the sudden onslaught. He blinked rapidly, black spots dancing in his vision as he tried fruitlessly to force his eyes to adjust. </p><p>“Rise and shine, boys,” a feminine voice trilled, “I hope you’re ready.”</p><p>Her gaze settled on Merlin and her smile seemed to sharpen. Like a predator staring down a rabbit; a scornful priest condemning a sinful man; a sister ready to take revenge for the wrongs done to her family. </p><p>Merlin’s eyes widened. </p><p>Uncertainty crept over his face, he can feel his jaw start to tremble. </p><p>The emotions he’d pushed down rapidly rising within him like soap bubbles, popping against his breastbone, lodging in his throat. He suddenly couldn't breathe around the lump in his throat.</p><p>He swallowed convulsively.</p><p>“Morgause,” he gasped shakily.</p><p>Her smirk widened. The edges of her smile stretching her pretty face into something grotesque, as she glared daggers at Merlin. </p><p>“Ready for what,” Arthur interjected warily. </p><p>Worried eyes lighting upon Merlin. </p><p>“Why to play of course,” she grinned cruelly, “We’re going to have so much <em> fun </em> together.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hmmm, okay. We’re just gonna pretend there was a time gap between defeating Morguase and Merlin releasing the Great Dragon. Wibbly Wobbly Timey Wimey shenanigans going on.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Where Do You Think You're Going?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which Merlin and Arthur are tortured for information and Morgause is her usual terrible self</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>CW: general torture, whipping, cutting, etc. Please proceed with caution if stuff like this freaks you out.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Get them up,” Morgause ordered. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cenred, who had been loitering in the doorway behind the witch, snapped his fingers.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Immediately, two guards entered the cell.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Secure them,” Cenred ordered.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The guards nodded, hands moving to untie the handcuffs hanging from their belts.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They paused momentarily, gazing between Arthur and Merlin, as though trying to decide who to unchain first, before approaching Arthur.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur snapped at them, voice raised, “stay back!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Teeth bared in a snarl, the prince struggled violently against the chains securing him to the wall. Curses flew from his mouth, vulgar and completely unbefitting of a member of the royal family.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin stared at him in detached fascination, shock masking the sorrow he might have typically felt at such a display. He had seen Arthur in various fits of emotion, had caused quite a few fits of rage himself, but he had never seen Arthur behave like this.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Like he was terrified; an animal trapped in a snare, lashing out desperately at their surroundings, with the fleeting hope that maybe if they struggled enough, appeared threatening enough, that they would survive.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Briefly, Merlin wondered why Arthur is acting like this.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This was not the first time they had found themselves in a prison cell completely at the mercy of their captors.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So what made this time different?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin racked his brain. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Everything had seemed normal - well, as normal you could expect sitting in a dungeon for the umpteenth time can be - so far. They had been joking, laughing. They had poked fun at their situation.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And then….</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin had been afraid.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His breath caught.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The cursing and the desperate acts...it was all for </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span>?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur was fighting for him and not himself?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That was….strangely heartwarming, actually.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin straightened from his slouched sit. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He would not be afraid.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Not anymore.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He had been shocked to see Morgause so soon after the poisoning incident.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It had been an all too painful reminder of what had happened; bringing forth memories that Merlin had tried hard to suppress. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And while the memory of her desperation, of Morgana’s rattling breaths and too pale skin and the feverish fervor he had felt still haunted him, he would not let it cripple him like this.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He could be brave for Arthur. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He could do this much.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>On the other side of the cell, the guards said nothing. Deigning not to respond to Arthur’s protests.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Their faces impassive.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>One of them pointed the tip of their blade against the soft underside of Arthur's neck forcing him to still lest he slit his own throat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The other guard deftly maneuvered his now unresisting wrists into the cuffs. Releasing one wrist, securing it in the handcuffs before moving onto the next wrist.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The whole process was over quickly, the guards very good at their jobs. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Leaving one guard to watch Arthur, the other made his way across the cell to, quickly and efficiently, give Merlin the same treatment.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin growled.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Peeved that he, as always, was deemed such a non-threat that he only had one guard manhandling him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>While he was maneuvering Merlin’s hands into the new handcuffs, Merlin felt his magic for a brief instant. He stiffened. He had been searching for his magic but had been unable to locate it. He had assumed it was because of the cell itself. But now he wondered if it was the </span>
  <em>
    <span>cuffs </span>
  </em>
  <span>that were blocking his access to his magic. Was there something special about the cuffs now locked around his wrists and the chains dangling loosely from the wall?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin subtly examined the cuffs. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Upon closer inspection, he was able to make out tiny sigils engraved in the metal. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ah-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Well, that explained it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A wave of relief went through him so powerful, had he been standing, he would have been brought to his knees.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It wasn’t that he was (had been) afraid. Or that he was dependent on his magic. But it was disturbing to be cut off from such an innate part of himself. He’d had magic his entire life, from the moment he was born, he was connected to the magic of the world. And to be cut off from it...</span>
</p>
<p><span>It was like realizing he suddenly only had one leg to stand on when he could have sworn that he’d </span><em><span>just </span></em><span>had</span> <span>two. </span></p>
<p>
  <span>Not only that, it meant that he could fight back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>All he needed to do was get the cuffs off.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He barely had time to finish the thought, hope leaping brightly within him, before he was tugged carelessly to his feet. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He swayed slightly, took a shaky step forward to steady himself. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let’s go.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They were pushed out the door, the guards hands rough on their backs and arms, frogmarching them down the long, dank hallway. The air in the hallway was frigid.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin shuddered. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His thin clothes doing nothing to protect him from the chill. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The walls were made of the same drab stone Merlin had seen in their tiny cell. They glistened with wetness, the torchlight throwing the droplets into sharp relief. Looking for all the world like minuscule balls of fire, lighting their way into the unknown.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin had once read about magical creatures who had appeared as living fire, guiding travelers to whatever fate awaited them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Will-o-the-wisps. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Hinkypunks.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Apparently, creatures that appeared cute and friendly leading unsuspecting travelers to their doom was a very popular occupation.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At the time, he’d wondered what it must feel like to be led to your death like that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Now, as he watches Morgause’s blonde hair glow in the torchlight, he thinks he understands.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She walked next to Cenred, talking to him in quiet whispers, she smirked at Merlin when she noticed him watching before returning her attention to the king. Waving a dismissive hand when Cenred broke away from their little progression to hurry down a side hallway.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wondered where he’s going.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wondered where </span>
  <em>
    <span>he’s </span>
  </em>
  <span>going.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin can only guess that they are being taken to some torture chamber to be interrogated. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The thought made his stomach crawl. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Anxiety writhed inside him, like a nest of snakes twisting in agitation had decided to take up residence in his stomach, making him stumble. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The guards roughly grasped his arm, pulling him up and forward. A yelp escaped him before he could quell it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur stiffened at the sound.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Twisting as much as he can with the guard's hands on his shoulder, he pivoted to look at him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin sees his eyes fall to the hand forming bruises on his bicep.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His eyes hardened, a vein popped out in his neck.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What do you think you are doing to my servant,” he spat. His face bright red with fury.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The guard clamped both hands on his shoulders, moving as though to yank him back. Arthur struggled against the hands holding him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He lashed out with his elbows, bucking wildly in an attempt to free himself and get to Merlin’s side. Curses and complaints flying from his lips.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin dragged his feet, waiting to see what the plan is and how he can help. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He watches Arthur. Torn between wanting to help him and not wanting to get in his way.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur would never forgive him if he somehow ended up thwarting his escape plan.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Instead, he lets his eyes wander the hallway, observing each of their captor's faces.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>By this point, Morgause has stopped, her face giving away nothing, as she stared at the scene.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She raised a dainty eyebrow. As if to say </span>
  <em>
    <span>well, get on with it. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur’s guard yanked him forward but Arthur refused to move his feet and had to be dragged every few steps. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It is hard work.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The guard’s face screwed up from the effort, perspiration shone on his brow, he grunted as he hefted Arthur forward another step.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>On the next step, Arthur is ready for him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Deliberately dragging his leg against the ground, he forces the guard to stumble. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The old man staggered forward, his arms loosening slightly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It is all the opportunity Arthur needs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yanking his shoulder from the guard’s hands, he twisted to face him, throwing out a well-placed elbow to catch him in the ribs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The guard wheezed, dropping his hands entirely to clutch at his chest. Immediately Arthur headbutted him, sending him crumbling to the ground. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The guard holding Merlin cried out. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur turned to face the other guard but he looked disoriented. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Probably from giving himself a concussion.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Still, he slid into a battle stance as the guard removed his hands from Merlin’s shoulders, rushing to aid his fellow sentinel. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin spun, sticking his leg out, he tripped the unfortunate guard as he hurried past him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The guard shouted, alarmed. Pinwheeling his arms he tried desperately to stay upright only to trip over the body on the floor, sending him careening into the prince. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They collapsed in a tangle of limbs. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur shouted as the back of his head smacked into the wall behind him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin winced, horrified at what he had done.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The clotpole </span>
  <em>
    <span>definitely</span>
  </em>
  <span> had a concussion now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Oh god. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’d screwed things up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This was the most pathetic prison break he’d ever witnessed; a prince with more brawn than brain, a clumsy warlock, and two blundering guards squabbling in a narrow hallway. It reminded him of the disagreements he’d seen between the village girls growing up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He groaned again, leaning back to bang his head against the wall.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stupid, stupid, stupid...</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Morgause glared at them all. Stalking to the inert guards on the floor, she used her magic to haul them up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You fools,” she roared. “How hard is it to watch two little </span>
  <em>
    <span>boys</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Both of the guards scrambled to regain their holds on their captives, their faces showing only the last few vestiges of their former impassivity.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They were frazzled and it showed in the way they dragged them down the hallway into a large room. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin’s eyes darted around the room. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was a large room; there were shackles lining one wall, dangling limply from their supports. A long table lined the back of the room, tools gleaned dully on its surface; a table stood in the middle of the room.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The air in the room smelled vaguely familiar to Merlin. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It smelled…sharp and kinda tangy.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For some reason, it reminded him of Gaius’s rooms. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But Gaius’ rooms had an assortment of smells so he couldn’t really pin it down. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Morgause stopped, “Tie up Mr. Prince here, make sure our guest is comfortable,” she grinned. “And place the servant boy on the table.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The guards hurried to comply.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur shouted when he was slammed against the wall of the room, one of the guards roughly maneuvering his arms to reimprison him in shackles.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin, meanwhile, was taken to the table in the center of the room. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Up close he could see that it had leather straps hanging down from the side and cuffs on both the top and the bottom ends. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It looked quite menacing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At least to Merlin.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The guard pushed him down onto the table and held his chest down with one hand while placing his hands in the cuffs before moving down to his feet. Leaving the straps undone, for now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When they are incapacitated, Morgause sauntered up to Merlin and caressed his cheek</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You look so pretty like this, all tied up,” she croons. “I will love making you scream.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You son of a-! Don’t touch him,” Arthur shouted furiously, yanking vainly against his restraints.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Language, language,” she tutted, stepping over to him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur tried to kick her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur gasped or tried to. There was an immense pressure on his throat making it impossible to breathe.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is that any way to treat your hostess?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She leaned into his face which was turning blue from the lack of oxygen.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe I’ll need to teach you some manners while we’re at it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The invisible pressure evaporated and Arthur struggled to stay composed over the urge to inhale like a madman.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She sauntered back over to Merlin. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The rules are simple. I ask a question, you answer it.” She looks over her shoulder at Arthur. “If I find the answer… dissatisfactory or you break a rule, Merlin will have the pleasure of facing the punishment. Do you understand?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You are a </span>
  <em>
    <span>cow</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Arthur said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She smiled a sickly sweet smile. “Lovely. Let’s begin.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What is in the vaults?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A pained tint entered Arthur's eyes, he didn’t answer, mouth staying stubbornly closed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He turned his head away, ashamed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A crisp snap echoed through the room and Arthur's head was jerked back to see the table.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Did I forget a rule? Oh, silly me.” She giggled madly. “There will be no looking away from Merlin.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A knife flew off the rack on the wall into her hand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Where would you like me to put my art?” She paused, scrutinizing Merlin. “Oh, a perfect spot.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her eyes flashed gold and Merlin's trousers disappeared leaving his legs exposed to the cold dungeon air.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He shrieked as the knife tore through the skin of his inner thigh, once, twice. The two deep slashes immediately pooled with blood. It dribbled over his leg and onto the tabletop, painting its surface scarlet.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His breath caught. Tears pricked at Merlin's eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That smell.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His mind finally placed what the smell reminded him of. It smelled like the old blood that sometimes permeated Gauis’ chambers after he took care of a guard. The smell was thick and coppery. It clung to Merlin’s tongue, metallic and sickening.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What is in the vaults?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can’t tell you!” Arthur shouted. “Stop! Hurt me instead. It’s me that you want.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The knife moved slowly this time, a mocking caress, adding to the “art” on Merlin’s thigh.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are there any magical artefacts in the vaults?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can’t- I- I would never tell you!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A shame,” She frowned exaggeratedly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Quickly, she slashed three marks into Merlin’s other leg. Forming a kind of demented star.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A whimper escaped from the thin line of Merlin’s mouth.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Morgause hummed, dragging the tip of her knife over Merlin’s calf, raising thin lines of red. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Perhaps, you just don’t have the right </span>
  <em>
    <span>incentive,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” she mused. “Let’s fix that. I’m sure we can find a way to change your mind.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Summoning the guards, she gestured for them to lift Merlin off the table. Together they carried him across the room. They placed him in front of a pole he hadn’t noticed was there, handcuffing him so he was almost hugging it. The handcuffs were then connected to a chain on the ceiling so that he couldn’t sink down.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her eyes flashed gold again and a whip appeared in her hand. It was made of dark brown leather, bits of metal embedded in it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin’s shoulders instinctively tightened; he pulled against the straps in desperation but they refused to budge even an inch. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His eyes squeezed shut of their own accord. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His face screwed up in anticipated pain. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh no, trust me,” Morgause cooed with a taunting smile, her eyes alight with malice. “You’re going to want to be strapped in for this. We’re about to find out just how many times a person can break.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You </span>
  <em>
    <span>witch</span>
  </em>
  <span>!” Arthur yelled. “When I get out of here I will make you </span>
  <em>
    <span>regret </span>
  </em>
  <span>what you have done. I will-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Morgause ignored his threats.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is there a cup? In the vaults?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know,” Arthur shouted, “I don’t know everything that’s in there.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Who does?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Go piss yourself.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Morgause's eyes burned with hatred.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The whip landed multiple strikes on Merlin’s back. Ripping long strips of cloth off his shirt.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His back arched toward the pole and his breathing hitched, a strangled scream escaping his bloody lips.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur regained the wildness of before, as he tried to tear the shackles from the wall, panic racing through his veins like white, hot fire.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A loud crackle, pop sounded as both Arthur’s shoulders dislocated.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The pain and noise shocked him out of the haze he was in.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You didn’t have to do my work for me,” Morgause simpered. “You’ll have plenty of fun when it's your turn.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur just sagged as he panted. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Please,” he begged, voice nearly failing him under the weight of a cracking psyche as his eyes darted to his best friend, hanging heavy in his chains. “Please. Don’t hurt him anymore, hurt me instead.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She cocked an eyebrow, twirled the whip in her nimble fingers, staring hungrily at Arthur, now slumped in a helpless heap against the wall. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She chuckled.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is that what you think?” she asked, approaching him, something too like a ravenous hunger in her cold gaze. She tilted his head up with the handle of the whip, forcing the prince to look her in the eyes. “Oh, you poor, naive thing. I was always going to hurt both of you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I just planned to hurt you worse,” she said. Removing the whip handle she let Arthur’s head droop down to rest against his chest, his jaw clenched in frustration. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shall we start again? Splendid,” she moved back to Merlin’s side. “Who knows what is in the vaults?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I could ne- never betray them.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin wailed as more lines were added to the collection on his back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A sob rose from him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tears streamed down his cheeks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We could end both your suffering right now. Tell me who knows what is in the vaults.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No….no.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Morgause grabbed a handful of salt from a bowl on one of the workbenches.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin screamed and screamed and screamed and screamed as she literally rubbed the salt into the wounds.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His back arched so far he was almost parallel to the floor.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No! Stop it! You’ll pay for that! You will all pay for this!” Arthur thundered.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin drooped lifelessly, screams devolved into sobs. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He could hardly see, his vision so blurred by tears. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Black spots danced in his vision as he struggled to stay conscious. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was hardly aware of the guards hauling him up, dragging him across the ground to take Arthur's place hanging on the wall. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He cried out when his ruined back made contact with the wall behind him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The world rushed back into startling focus. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Each breath he took scraping his back against the rough-hewn stone, aggravating the stripes on his back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His shirt clung to him uncomfortably, wet and heavy with blood; it was going to be torture in and of itself to get it off later. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur took his place at the chain hanging from the ceiling. His arms somewhat bent above him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The rules are the same, Merlin. I ask a question, you answer it, or Arthur faces the consequences.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She smiled her sickly sweet smile at him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How can I get into the vaults?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“With a key.” Merlin snarked breathlessly, as the black spots transformed into waves that washed inward from the edge of his vision, great and all-encompassing. He could hardly see Arthur in front of him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Was that a good thing? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That he wouldn’t have to watch his friend suffer?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Or was it just selfish of him? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin didn’t know.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Morgause flicked a finger at one of the guards.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The chain was raised until Arthur was forced to stand on tiptoe to avoid putting his body weight on his damaged shoulders.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Who carries this key?” She demanded. “The king?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sometimes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her eyes narrowed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur was lifted off the ground.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For a few painstaking seconds, he dangled there, jerking spastically. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He reminded Merlin of a fish strung from a line, struggling for breath, unable to bear the pain it suddenly found itself in. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His mouth opened in a silent scream.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin felt terrible. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Like that scream was burning into his conscience. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It echoed in his ears; it was a sound he knew he would relive in his nightmares for years to come; a constant reminder that he’d hurt Arthur.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cenred appeared in the doorway.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My dear,” he said. “You are needed elsewhere.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Morgause frowned briefly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She gestured at one of the guards, “Take them back to their cell. And you-” she gestured to the guard by the door, “come with me. I’m sure your friend here can handle two heavily wounded animals by himself.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, Lady Morgause,” the guards intoned. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Morgause ignored them, sweeping from the room with an air of satisfaction.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin could barely register the remaining guard putting him into the handcuffs. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur’s expression of agony branded into his mind.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This time the handcuffs are easily put on Arthur as he stands limply. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Seemingly accepting the loss of freedom.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Taking a hold of both their arms, the guard marches them back down the hallway.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The hallway is silent except for the echoing of their footsteps.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Without the struggle of last time the trip is much shorter, before long they stand in front of the cell.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The cell door opened with a </span>
  <em>
    <span>creak</span>
  </em>
  <span> and the guard pushed them into it, closing the door behind him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As soon as the click of the latch is heard, the relaxed air around Arthur changes into a frenzy of energy. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He tripped the guard and Merlin kneed him in the forehead as he went down. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steadfastly ignoring the pain that stretching his back caused him, he kneeled down beside the unconscious guard, hands groping at his belt.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s on his belt, to the left,” Arthur told him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin groped to his left.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not that way, you idiot. Your other left.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That </span>
  <em>
    <span>was </span>
  </em>
  <span>my left! You gave bad directions.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He felt the cold metal ring and unclipped it from the belt.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Which key is it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know. Try them all.” Arthur suggested.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After six failed attempts at unlocking Arthur's handcuffs, they finally clicked open.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur took the proffered key from Merlin and unlocked his handcuffs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin shook out his hands and enjoyed the feeling of magic flowing through his body. Now if only he could conjure some trousers without Arthur noticing...</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He turned around to face Arthur and saw him rubbing his eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s wrong?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nothing.” Arthur quickly replied. “Just these annoying black spots.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Black spots,” Merlin repeated, remembering the blow Arthur had obtained to his head. “You dollophead! </span>
  <em>
    <span>Why</span>
  </em>
  <span> did- Do you have </span>
  <em>
    <span>any- Ugh</span>
  </em>
  <span>! If what I think is happening, is happening, our escape just became ten times harder.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why must you always talk in riddles, Merlin?” Arthur groaned, the heels of his hands pressed against his eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It means, you clotpole, that that little concussion you got is not so little.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So...this is a thing. We've never written torture before so this was very new territory for us. But hopefully, we did okay! Our goal was to make it angsty but also to make it as silly and terrible as any of the canon episodes, haha. </p>
<p>As always, thanks for reading! Thank you so much to everyone who has stopped by, left kudos or both! You're all the real MVPs! Please consider leaving a comment if you enjoyed, that would be cool of you :) See you again on day 26 - blindness/migraine. It's gonna be fun, hehe. 😈 😈</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. If You Thought the Head Trauma was Bad…</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sorry for the wait. This chapter was getting super long and we decided to split it into two parts. The final chapter will be up when we finish editing the final half!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The small cell rang with the force of Merlin’s proclamation. Arthur glared at him, confused, but the effect was spoiled by Merlin, who had buried his hands in Arthur’s hair. Fingers gently prodding as he felt along his skull. He wasn’t exactly sure what he was looking for but he’d seen Gaius do it enough times that there must be </span>
  <em>
    <span>something </span>
  </em>
  <span>to look for</span>
  <em>
    <span>. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Goose eggs or something. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur sputtered, wincing when he hit a sore spot, “What’re you doing now?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m checking for swelling.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh-kay,” the prince didn’t sound convinced. He knew as well as Merlin that his servant was no physician. But beggars can’t be choosers, he griped mentally. “Why?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Gaius always does it when he treats people with head injuries. I don’t know why exactly, but from what I remember, I think it’s to check which area of the brain was affected - head injuries are tricky like that - depending on where it is and how much swelling there is….well….”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well? What?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, it can cause a whole bunch of other problems.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Problems,” Arthur repeated, haggard. He was tired and sore - which was an understatement to say the least. His shoulders were burning with a bone-deep ache and his head felt like someone was using it as a drum - and the last he wanted to do was play guessing games with Merlin. “So tell me, Merlin, what sort of </span>
  <em>
    <span>problems </span>
  </em>
  <span>might that be?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh you know,” he hemmed and hawed, hesitant to tell Arthur the truth lest it upset him. “It can make you dizzy or tired or nauseous or cause vision disturbances like...blindness.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Blindness?!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I'm sure it’s only temporary.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s not exactly reassuring, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Merlin</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m serious! Don’t worry, Arthur. You only have a very mild case of serious brain damage. Once the swelling goes down and your concussion starts to heal, it’ll come back with no problems, I promise.” Maybe it was the sincerity in Merlin’s voice. Maybe it was the use of his first name. Maybe it was that - being a knight - Arthur had at least a basic understanding of first aid and recognized the truth of Merlin’s words. Whatever the case, he schooled his expression, taking a few deep breaths as he worked to calm himself down. Merlin waited while he appeared to go through some sort of breathing exercise. Eventually, he seemed to come back to himself. Though he still looked troubled.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Good?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"No," Arthur replied, sullenly, moving like he wanted to rub his eyes but aborting the motion with a grating noise of pain as it tugged on his ruined shoulders. "But better than I was," he choked out between gritted teeth, his eyes clenching shut for a moment before he forced them back open. Merlin took a step forward, hands fluttering helplessly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He felt so powerless. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He couldn’t use magic. Not with Arthur so close. And especially not </span>
  <em>
    <span>on </span>
  </em>
  <span>Arthur. The prince was bound to notice if his injuries magically stopped hurting, even with Merlin’s paltry skill at healing spells.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was a hard pill to swallow but without his magic, there wasn't anything he could do to help. He didn't know how to reset dislocated shoulders and he was afraid that trying would just make things worse. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He couldn't even brace the injury.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The cell was empty; there wasn't a bedroll he could use as bandages. He didn't even have a shirt that he could tear into bandages. His own shirt was a lost cause, stained with blood and sweat, his trousers had been taken. The only thing he had was his neckerchief and it was too small to be of any help. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It seemed the only thing he could do was stand by and do </span>
  <em>
    <span>nothing </span>
  </em>
  <span>while his friend hurt.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His eyes stung as he blinked back frustrated tears.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We have to leave,” he said gently after the worst of the pain seemed to have passed. He hated to do it. Arthur looked so tired and run-down that he wished they could lie down. Just for a moment. But they had to move. They had already stalled too long and Merlin definitely didn’t want to be here when Morgause and the guards came back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur nodded. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Together they staggered over to the cell door. Arthur made a minute gesture - careful not to move his injured shoulders - and Merlin stopped. He waited while the prince pressed an ear to the door and listened carefully. Tense seconds crept by.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t hear anything,” he looked solemnly at Merlin, “Open the door. Slowly.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He nodded, moving to stand beside Arthur as he reached for the handle.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wait,” Merlin froze mid-reach, fingers hesitating over the brass handle. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He turned to look at Arthur, “What is it now?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your leg. It’s still bleeding. You need to bandage it somehow or you’ll lead the guards right to us.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin looked down. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He had forgotten that his leg had been cut. The smaller hurt was completely undetectable under the steady throb of agony emanating from his back. In the low light, the wound seemed to glow red like a star, the beads of blood, blooming from it reflecting the torchlight. One escaped, as he watched sliding down his leg before vanishing into the folds of his knee. It left a grisly red trail in its wake.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And now that his attention had been turned to it, he realized that his skin itched unpleasantly. The sensation of drying blood sending shivers up his spine. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What he wouldn’t give for a hot bath, right now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But baths would have to come later. For now, he had to stop the bleeding.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Untying his neckerchief he wrapped it over the wound before drawing it shut, hissing as the fabric rubbed against the shallow cuts.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blood immediately stained the makeshift bandage but it didn’t seem like it was gonna leak through. He experimentally moved his way this way and that before shaking it, for good measure. The bandage stayed firmly in place. Good. That was good. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Satisfied that his injury was taken care of to the best of his ability - and Merlin swore the instant they found anything else they could use as bandages he was going to give Arthur the same treatment - he returned to cautiously opening the door.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The hinges creaked as the door swung open half an inch. Merlin winced at the noise, breath freezing in his chest, certain that any moment now someone would sound the alarm. A moment passed. Two. He released a shaky breath when no one came to investigate the noise or the opening of the door. Emboldened, he let the door swing open the rest of the way. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Peeking out, he cautiously stepped into the empty corridor before helping Arthur out as well. Linking their arms together, he wondered aloud which way they should go. The prince shushed him and hissed back in a whisper that they should go left. Merlin nodded, in agreement. They’d already been down the right corridor after all and he had absolutely no desire to get anywhere near that torture chamber ever again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Even if it was the most familiar path...no. Just no. Never again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Like the corridor from before, the left passage was dimly lit. The light of the torches doing little to cut through the gloom. Merlin’s heart hammered wildly in his chest as they crept further down the hall. It was difficult to walk so close to another person, his legs kept tangling with Arthur’s and he was more stumbling than walking at this point.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur growled in nervous annoyance as he tripped again, nearly sending Arthur into the neighboring wall.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Merlin!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry, sorry,” he hastily got his feet under himself, the blood draining from his face. What if someone had heard that? Wasting no time, he unhooked his arm from Arthur’s before grabbing his wrist instead. Pulling him along behind him as he nearly raced down the hallway in his haste to get away from the scene of the crime. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I knew you were clumsy but this is ridiculous. Your inability to walk in a straight line is going to get us killed.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, I’m sorry,” Merlin hissed back, “It’s not my fault your fat legs kept getting in the way.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fat!? It’s muscle!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wow, why don’t you try again. I don’t think the </span>
  <em>
    <span>entire castle </span>
  </em>
  <span>heard you yelling, that time.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I was not shouting. Do I look like a complete idiot?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur scoffed, “Glad to see that torture hasn't ruined your sense of humor.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I wish I could say the same for you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just...don’t run me into any walls, Merlin,” he muttered wearily. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I wouldn’t dream of it. Any more hits and you’ll lose what little brains you have left," Merlin joked. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cenred’s castle was not a place that Merlin was familiar with. Camelot’s castle was the only one he’d ever been in but hopefully, they were similar enough that he could guess which way they should go. They were obviously being held in the dungeons - which if the layouts were the same - would put them at the lowest point of the castle. Any way out would be further up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Back in Camelot, the staircase leading down into the dungeons was right next to the south wall. It led straight into the heart of the dungeon before splitting into offshoots that lead to the vaults, the cells, or - if one was feeling very brave - to Kilgharrah’s prison. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But those staircases were only accessible one way. There’d definitely be a guard station at the bottom and if by some miracle they didn’t pass anyone on their journey to a staircase, they’d still have to deal with the guards at the bottom.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Still, Merlin groaned internally, it was the best bet they had.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So...up it was.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Now they just had to find their way up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wished fervently that Arthur had his eyes. They could have used his royal heritage right about now. It would have made navigating the castle a sight easier.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Speaking of, he should probably see how Arthur’s doing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"How are your eyes? Are you still seeing spots?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Worse. Everything’s starting to look really blurry. </span>
  <span>We have to hurry up. I won’t be much help when I can’t see anything. And I have no faith in your navigational abilities."</span>
  <span> They walked in silence for a moment before Arthur sighed, “I’m sorry that I’m not of more help to you Merlin.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t sell yourself short,” Merlin replied, his pace slowing as the hallway abruptly curved. Cautiously, he paused just before the final bend, checking for guards. “We wouldn’t have even made it this far if it weren’t for you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The way was clear.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He led them around the bend then he saw something that made the blood freeze in his veins.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur grunted as Merlin stopped in his tracks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He groaned as the abrupt motion pulled on his shoulder. He opened his mouth ready to scold Merlin for his carelessness but hesitated. Merlin may be an idiot but he wouldn’t have stopped without a reason.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He squinted trying to see why they had stopped to no avail. Everything looked like smears of color and shape and he couldn't make out anything he was looking at.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"What is it?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He heard Merlin swallow.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"It's a wall. A dead-end. Arthur, it's a dead-end! We choose the wrong way," he whispered, horrified. He stared in horror at the wall in front of him. "I thought maybe we'd find a staircase - like the one back in Camelot - but it's not here." Merlin paused, face wane in the low light, "Where would it be? Did you see a staircase when we," he choked, voice stuttering, "... earlier… Down the other hallway…"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur shook his head, heart sinking. The longer they spent here, the more likely they were to be spotted but where did they go? There had to be a way up so why couldn't they find it?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We must have missed something. We have to go back.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They backtracked down the hall, pausing in front of the cell they'd been in to check that they were in the right spot before continuing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin glanced at it as they walked by. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Now that he had time to look, he noticed that there were other cells dotting the stretch of wall. These ones didn’t have heavy wooden doors blocking the entrance. Instead, they looked more like the cages used to hold animals. Metal bars set low into the stone floor and crude doors with heavy-looking locks. They offered no privacy; Merlin could see every corner of the room through the bars. Straw and dirt covered the floor. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was a large lump in one cell. He looked closer at it. At first, he thought it was a bundle of cloth - maybe a makeshift bed - but then the torchlight moved and he caught a glimpse of fingers, still curled in agony. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He grimaced and averted his eyes. He didn’t look into any more cells after that but the image stayed with him. He felt panic rising within him threatening to choke him, to leave him a whimpering mess in the middle of the hallway. He inhaled slowly and let it, repeating the motion several times but it didn’t soothe him the way he’d been hoping.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was ridiculous. He had seen dead bodies before. He had </span>
  <em>
    <span>killed </span>
  </em>
  <span>people himself before so why? Why was he freaking out this time?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> Maybe it was that he was willingly walking back towards the place he’d been tortured. Maybe it was that he was frightened of seeing Arthur - his friend -  being tortured right in front of his eyes. Maybe he was just really tired; emotionally, physically, mentally. Once they were back in Camelot he was going to sleep for a </span>
  <em>
    <span>week. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He was so tired. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Whatever the case, he couldn’t stop himself from panicking, heart in his throat as they headed back towards the torture chamber.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"-Keep your eyes peeled," Arthur's voice cut through the wave of panic and he mentally clutched at it. "Are you listening to me, Merlin?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He opened his mouth to reply and was mortified when all that came out was a strangled-sounding moan.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur stopped. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come on. Out with it. What’s wrong,” he asked. “Do your wounds hurt?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin cleared his throat, croaking a few times before he answered, “No. No, my wounds aren’t hurting too bad. I’m just-” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Scared. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He couldn’t bring himself to say it out loud. But Arthur seemed to hear it all the same.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He clasped Merlin’s shoulder, squeezing gently, as he gazed at him with unfocused but overwhelmingly kind eyes. “It’ll be alright,” he assured him. “We just have to keep moving.”  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin nodded and didn't reply.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The door, when they find it, blends in with the wall so perfectly Merlin almost walks straight past it before recognizing the dull gleam of metal and shadow for what it is. He squeezes Arthur’s arm in excitement, dragging him over to the wall, before trying the door. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The handle moves uselessly. Locked. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The relief he had felt at the door's discovery drains away. Replaced with the panic from earlier; it threatens to crash into him. What if all the doors are locked? Then what would they do, it’s not like Merlin can do magic. Arthur’s right there. Staring... at… nothing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur can barely see anything. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin glanced between the door and Arthur. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stealthily, he whispered an unlocking spell. The metal handle glowed bright red for a second before dimming. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The spell hadn’t worked. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The handle must be made of more spelled metal.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin groaned and kicked the door. The door didn’t even bounce in its frame and Merlin took a moment to be irrationally angry about that. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Of course, it couldn't be that simple. Nothing was ever easy; not for him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin sighed dejectedly, “Locked.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Grabbing a hold of Arthur’s arm again, he pulled them down the hall.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He had really hoped they would find a way out before they reached the end of the hallway.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They’d almost reached the end and...</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was only one door left that he could see.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bile rose in his throat, he choked it back. His stomach rolling suddenly with nausea as he gazed at that door.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That </span>
  <em>
    <span>damnable </span>
  </em>
  <span>door. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The last door - because of </span>
  <em>
    <span>course, </span>
  </em>
  <span>it would be the last one - in the corridor, which hid such terrible secrets behind its innocent facade. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The door leading back to the torture chamber.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He floundered like a man lost at sea. Tossed to and fro by the pounding of the waves as he struggled to hold onto anything to keep him afloat. One by one he grasped at them; his resolve, his belief in his destiny, his trust in Arthur. They felt as fragile as butterfly wings. Cupped uncertainty in his hands as he stood on the cusp of throwing in the towel and saying </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m tired. I can’t do anymore. I cannot bear the weight of this trial for another minute let alone the rest of my life.  </span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>His courage flickered, guttered like a candle and he held onto with both hands. A life preserver in the dark ocean that he could see. That would lead him home if he only trusted in its light.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shakily, he reached out a trembling hand, grasped the handle, and slowly, the door creaked open.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin gagged as the room came into view, the bile from before returning with a vengeance. He abruptly twisted away from Arthur and threw up. His eyes burned with salt as dry heaves racked his body; lighting every nerve on fire as the skin on his back stretched and contracted with each violent motion. When it was over he felt scoured out, like someone had taken an ice cream scoop [1] and hollowed him out until all that remained was the hollow shell of his body. Empty as though somewhere along the way his soul had left him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wiped his mouth with a shaking hand. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Vaguely, he can feel hands on his arms, simultaneously holding him and shaking him in worry.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hoarsely he reassured the worried prince that he was alright. He had just opened the last door - the door to the torture chamber, he spit out between clenched teeth - and, and he just hadn’t been prepared to see the carnage that lay inside it. Arthur stiffened, ahhing in understanding. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It’s okay, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he said.</span>
  <em>
    <span> We'll get out of here and never have to see it again. Or we can come back and burn it to the ground if you want.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Merlin nodded, a small huff of laughter escaping him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They walked further into the room. Careful to go around the blood staining the floor and dripping off the table and the chains - crusted a sickly brown with old blood - hanging from the walls and ceiling. The scent of iron hung thick in the air. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There were no doors.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Just the same stone walls everywhere Merlin looked. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t see a way out. I think that door we passed - the locked one - was the door to the staircase. You know, like the one in Camelot by the catacombs, that’s guarded by guards. It’s the only way out...we’re...we’re trapped.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur hummed, “I don’t think so. This is a castle. It must have secret passages. Someway the king and his family could escape if they needed to. Camelot has many. When we were little, Morgana,” he faltered, a strange look passing over his face,”...and I would try to find all of them.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’d knock on the walls. You can tell if it’s hollow that way. The sound is different when you hit a hollow pocket. Now point me at a wall and let’s do this.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin did. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Spreading out, they made their way slowly along the wall, listening carefully for any difference in sound. It was harder than Arthur had made it sound and Merlin found himself worrying that he wouldn’t be able to tell the difference. He glanced at the prince out of the corner of his eye and tried his best to copy his pose. Fist raised, ear flat against the wall. Neither of them spoke.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sweat began to bead on his forehead as five minutes passed. Ten. This was taking too long. Someone was bound to notice they were missing eventually and they hadn’t even made it out of the dungeon yet. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He jerked when Arthur exclaimed in triumph, “I found one. Over here, Merlin.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nearly stumbling with relief, he hurried across the room. Skirting around the filthy table to stand next to Arthur. The wall in front of them was innocuous - if he hadn’t known any better he never would have noticed - but upon closer inspection, he could see tiny cracks that could have been an outline of a door. He dug his nails into the crack, fingers slipping on its smooth surface before he found a handhold. With a grunt of pain, he pried the hidden door open, panting in exhaustion and agony. The space in the wall was an inky black hole so dark that it almost seemed to be alive with swirling shadows. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let’s go,” there was no time to lose. There was no time to try to pry one of the torches from their sconce. Plus, he wasn’t even sure if he was able to lift his arms up high enough to grab one. They’d have to walk blind. Or, if worse came to worst, he could try to enchant some magic lights to guide them. He grabbed Arthur’s hand, closed the secret door behind them as best he could, and led them into the dark. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The hallway was cramped and narrow; too small for them to walk side by side. Forcing them to walk sideways like crabs as they held onto each other so that they didn’t get separated.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cobwebs brushed against them as they walked. Merlin felt some cling to his hair and the wet fabric of his shirt. No one had been this way in a long time, it seemed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Finally, it became too hard to walk sideways and Merlin stopped. Glaring at nothing. Arthur made a questioning sound but Merlin shook his head. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s too hard to walk this way,” he had an idea of how to make the walk easier but he had a sinking feeling that Arthur would hate it. “Put your hands on my shoulders.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I </span>
  <em>
    <span>can’t</span>
  </em>
  <span>. My shoulders are literally broken, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Merlin.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, well, put them on my waist then.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What? No way! Absolutely not.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come on Arthur! Don’t be a prat. I’m tired of walking sideways. It’s too hard and not very efficient. We’d make better time walking single file. But you need to hold onto me ‘cause I’m not going to be the one to go running after you when you wander off and get lost, you blind menace.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The hallway is straight!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mmmm, and yet you could still manage to get lost.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Merlin.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just do it. I am literally begging you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur made some indecipherable comments under his breath. Before gingerly placing his hands on Merlin’s waist.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This never happened. You better not tell anyone about this.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, don’t worry, my lips are sealed.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Awkwardly, they walked down the hall. Arthur’s hands brushing like butterflies against him, barely putting any pressure on his sides. Merlin stifled a grin. It was ridiculous - Arthur’s aversion to non-violent physical contact - but at the same time, it was almost...thoughtful. That he refused to put any more weight than he had to on Merlin’s injured sides.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was grateful. It also gave him something to focus on instead of his burning back. That included with the attention he had to give his feet not to fall over, he almost was lost in the repetitive movement.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>How long had they been walking? The door had provided a little light at first but now the darkness was oppressive. A physical presence that was weighing him down, bringing all of the doubts and fears he had been ignoring. They weren’t moving fast enough and then they would be caught and brought back to that awful room. He wished they could move faster than an awkward shuffle but he couldn’t see the wall right next to him let alone the floor. There was no way to tell where he was leading them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin groaned as he ran headfirst into...something in front of him and then again when Arthur ran into him. Forcing him further against whatever it was he’d run into. In the dark, he groped the thing in front of him, trying to figure out what it was. It almost felt like a rotted wooden door. He searched some more and was rewarded with what felt like a doorknob against his palm. He grinned through the pain still blazing through him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s a door,” he whispered to Arthur. “I really hope this is the way out.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin pushed the door. Nothing happened. He pushed again harder, basically leaning all of his weight onto it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It won’t open,” he whispered frantically. “There must be something on the other side that's blocking it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Or,” Arthur began slowly. “It doesn’t open that way. Have you tried pulling?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Oh. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His face </span>
  <em>
    <span>burned. </span>
  </em>
  <span>At least it was dark and Arthur was practically blind.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He turned back to the door and grabbed the doorknob, pulled the door open.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Back up, I can’t open it all the way.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was some awkward maneuvering in the cramped tunnel before they both made it through the door.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The only thing in the room was a crumbling stone staircase, spiraling up the walls; weak light was filtering in through somewhere. It wasn’t a lot but it was better than the inky blackness from before. At least now Merlin could almost see what was in front of him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What he saw made him swallow, nervously. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The stairs were narrow. They looked like they were just barely big enough for both of them to stand side by side but there were no railings and they weren’t exactly steady right now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you think you can get up the stairs behind me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur made a confused face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There’s enough room for both of us but it might be safer to go one at a time.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We can try one at a time first.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, grab my waist again.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He led them to the first step and went up the first two before stopping.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looked back at Arthur and saw that he was staring at the ground, inching his foot forward looking for the step.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A couple more inches.” Arthur’s foot hit the stone. “Step.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They got into a pattern. Swing, hit, step. Swing, hit, step.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It didn’t take long though for Merlin’s leg to voice its displeasure. By stair ten he was uncomfortable, by number twenty he was sweating, and number twenty-five he was ready to give up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can’t,” he wheezed. “My leg.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hold onto me, then. We’ll walk up this staircase together. I'll...carry you if I have to. But I really hope that doesn't happen.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He huffed a laugh. “I make no promises. But...fine. You have to be by the wall, though.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin guided Arthur up onto his right.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wrap your arm around my waist.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin did so without complaint.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They staggered up the rest of the steps. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Another door sat at the top of the stairwell and Merlin hurried over to it, panting. He pressed gently on the wood, letting the door open a crack. The light flooding into the stairwell blinded him and he had to blink a few times to make the red spots go away before he could see what was outside the door. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It opened into an empty hallway. To his left was a wall, and to his right was another hallway that ran perpendicular to the one they came out in. Merlin breathed a sigh of relief. “No guard table. No guards. Empty. They must have forgotten that this secret passage existed. Lucky break, huh?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He grinned over his shoulder at Arthur. But of course, he couldn’t see it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come on.” He ushered Arthur out next to him and wrapped his arm around his waist again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Silently, they crept to the other corridor. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin looked right and left. The right path extended a few feet and then came to a dead end. It had a couple of doors but he dismissed them. They looked like they led to storage rooms; they wouldn’t help them get outside. The left path seemed more promising. It was longer, for one. Doors lined both sides of the hallway; and from what he could see, it seemed to extend further back into the castle. Hopefully, it was the main hallway that connected to the whole castle.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He knew which way he wanted to go but still….</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Which way now? Right or left”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, it could be this way,” Arthur flopped his arm to the right. “Or it could be that way.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s not very reassuring.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know every single castle in England, Merlin. Just because I’m a prince doesn’t mean I know everything.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll hold you to that,” Merlin started down the left hallway, pulling Arthur along with him. He sighed theatrically. “It’s what I get for asking a blind man for directions.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Rude. I’m trying my best, Merlin. I’d like to see you try to-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He abruptly stopped talking. Merlin’s smile shriveled up and died as he heard it too. The sound of footsteps and laughter coming towards them. He pressed them back into the shadows, holding his breath, as the group of guards walked past them. Obviously on their way to the garrison quarters for a much-needed break, if their conversation was anything to go by. Merlin hoped that they’d decide to sleep or drink themselves into a stupor instead of sitting around and playing knucklebones or backgammon or nine men’s morris or whatever games knights played in their spare time. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They’d be in the way. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Not to mention make it even harder to escape.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Should we try to sneak past them?” The words were barely a whisper. Yet, even that ghost of a sound made him anxious that someone would hear them. He shifted easily on the balls of his feet. He realized that he was squeezing the life out of Arthur’s waist and forced himself to loosen his grip. He swallowed, tried to breathe past the fear. He felt like he was all over the place. Bouncing between all-consuming terror, anxiety, and a hysterical kind-of giddiness that consumed him completely. Like he was fracturing and everything he was feeling was spilling from him like floodwaters. Destructive, messy, impossible to run from. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He couldn’t fall apart. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Not yet.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Not </span>
  <em>
    <span>yet. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur nodded, unhappily. The corners of his mouth were turned down in a frown, eyebrows pinched together in concentration. His eyes narrowed. “You think you can do it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t think we have a choice.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Footnotes: </p>
<p>[1] Honey sorbet was a luxury that the kings often enjoyed, and which featured heavily in Nero’s vast banquets. In Medieval times, however, ice cream was often associated with sin, if not downright witchcraft.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Rewrite the Stars</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The last chapter! Thank you all so much for reading our silly story!! We hope you enjoyed it! If you have a second we'd love to hear from you one last time! We cherish every kudo, bookmark, hit, comment, etc that we receive ♥️♥️♥️</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They waited as the guards - Merlin counted at least seven - disappeared into one of the rooms in the left corridor. That must be where the garrison quarters are, he guessed. Which meant that the other doors most likely led to the servant quarters. </p><p>If, he groaned internally, the layout was the same as Camelot’s castle.</p><p>Which so far it hadn’t been. But...did he have any other options? Would it be faster to take the route he knew and hope it was the same? Or should he just choose a direction at random and hope for the best? </p><p>It was a difficult choice; no, he corrected himself, it was an impossible choice. </p><p>But maybe….</p><p>If he could use his magic then they might have a chance. </p><p>He couldn't say the spells out loud, not with Arthur so close, but maybe he could cast silently. He'd done it before - like when he saved Gaius from falling or when he fought Arthur in the square - but it had been instinctive. And he'd been in distress; it had never worked when he wasn't under duress.</p><p>He was definitely under duress now. But he didn’t know if this duress counted. It wasn’t as time-sensitive as before.</p><p>"<em>Bord, wiþ stende hine </em>!" He thought. Willing the door closed and locked. It swung shut with a bang. Startled shouts immediately spilling from the other side.</p><p>Time to go.</p><p>Merlin grabbed Arthur's arm, running down the hallway as best he could, forgetting to be gentle in his heightened state of emotion, "Come on!"</p><p>The walls flew by in a blur as they rushed down the hallway to what Merlin hopes is the servant’s exit. </p><p>Arthur stumbled. Merlin dragged him along before with a heave, he righted him.</p><p>Behind them, he heard a deafening crunch of a wooden door splintering. Shouts echoed down the corridor accompanied by the sound of pounding feet as the guards began to chase after them. </p><p>He cursed. </p><p>Skidding around a corner at full speed. Nearly sending them colliding with a hall as they slid along the polished floor. </p><p>A serving girl shrieked when she saw them, dropping the basket she was carrying, its contents rolling across the floor. Merlin pushed her out of the way, heart-clenching at the fear on her face and knowing that he was the reason it was there. </p><p>He hated himself for it but he had no choice.</p><p>He couldn't let them get caught again. </p><p>Neither of them were in great shape.</p><p>His back burned like fire every time he so much as breathed. The movement stretching the shallow wounds painfully. He could still feel blood trickling down his back; it made his shirt cling like a second skin before trailing hot and sticky down the back of his thighs. </p><p>Both of Arthur’s arms were dislocated and needed to be set. To make matters worse, he obviously had a terrible concussion that was already affecting his vision.</p><p>Merlin considered their options.</p><p>They couldn’t fight. </p><p>They obviously couldn’t run forever. He could already feel his lungs tightening as he ran, the growing stitch in his side telling him he wouldn’t be able to run for much longer.</p><p>Above them, the alarm bell began to toll. </p><p>Each ring sounded like a death toll.</p><p>Arthur grimaced, "We're running out of time. Have you found the way out yet?" </p><p>Merlin didn’t respond, too out of breath and too rundown to answer. “Oh,” Arthur breathed, frown deepening, understanding what Merlin wasn’t saying. He could hear the footsteps of the guards following close behind them. “I see how it is. If we’re going down, we’re going down together and, Merlin,” Arthur hesitated and Merlin grimaced at how solemn he sounded, “It was an honor knowing you. I couldn’t ask for a better man to die beside.”</p><p>“Ha, I’m not done yet. Save your compliments for after I've rescued us.”</p><p>Arthur snorted, wetly and didn’t reply; grim acceptance lined his face. He knew as well as Merlin that the odds of escape were next to none. But he was a Pendragon and when the time came to meet death, he would meet him with honor - head held high and the knowledge that he hadn’t surrendered. Not even for a second.  </p><p>And for once Merlin was in complete unspoken agreement with him. He wasn’t about to go down without a fight.</p><p>His eyes flashed gold and the ceiling gave way behind them. </p><p>Their pursuers shouted in alarm. </p><p>Surprise flit like lightning across Arthur’s face, “What was that?”</p><p>“The ceiling just collapsed! What shoddy workmanship, huh? It’s a wonder the castle’s even still standing, shape it’s in!”</p><p>“It’s a miracle it didn’t squish us.”</p><p>“Oh, you know how we are. Nothing but good luck and fortune ever happens to us.” He panted, breathing ragged. His face burned and he was sure if he looked in a mirror it would be bright red and sweat dripped down his face and neck. The salt of it stinging the lacerations on his back. But it was a grounding pain. He let himself focus on it rather than the pain in his lungs. Eventually, though, he had to stop.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” he gasped, knees shaking uncontrollably, forcing him to brace himself against the wall as he caught his breath. “I can’t, I can’t run anymore…”</p><p>Beside him, he could hear Arthur panting - though not as hard  - he tugged on his arm, setting a sedate pace down the hallway.</p><p>“Walk then but don’t stop. It’s a miracle we managed to lose the guards as it is.”</p><p>“Yeah...a real miracle.”</p><p>Merlin grunted. Stumbling as he tried to walk on legs that felt like they could collapse underneath him at any moment. He swallowed and pushed past his exhaustion, vision flaring white as with a flick of his wrist all the doors in the corridor swung open simultaneously. Most of them looked to be servant quarters but there was one that opened into a courtyard. He staggered towards it gratefully.</p><p>
  <em> “MERLIN!”  </em>
</p><p>Morgause’s furious gaze was pinned on him; her eyes flashed gold, cracking the archway. The rock splintered and it sagged. Pieces of rock and dust rained down on them. Merlin shouted in alarm and tackled Arthur through the doorway right as the keystone gave a mighty groan and fell, the rest of the arch following. A cloud of dust rose from the rubble.</p><p>Arthur made an alarmed sound. Merlin looked up, eyes widening before immediately dropping back to the ground. Covering Arthur with his body as the wall behind them exploded. Showering them with pieces of stone and wood. Merlin shouted as a particularly large piece slammed into the small of his back.</p><p>He rolled over, dazedly taking in the rubble covering the grass. Stumbling to his knees and then to his feet, he grabbed a dazed Arthur and dragged him to a safe spot. Laying him down behind another piece of arch support and rubble from the wall.</p><p>“Merlin-”</p><p>“Shhh,” Merlin interrupted, glancing nervously over his shoulder, “Just stay here. I’ve gotta, gotta go deal with Morgause.”</p><p>“It’s too dangerous! You can’t seriously be thinking of fighting her by yourself!”</p><p>“I have to.”</p><p>“No! Absolutely not. I, I forbid it! I can’t believe I’m saying this but… Let’s just run. It’s our best option! I’m sure that-”</p><p>“Arthur,” Merlin said firmly. “I <em> have </em>to. I have to do this. I know you don’t understand and to be honest neither do I but I do know it's something that I must face alone.” </p><p>The crown prince’s face tightened with anguish that he would never admit to feeling. Merlin watched as the five stages of grief played across his face before finally Arthur sighed and reluctantly let him go. “I sure hope you know what you’re doing.”</p><p>He stood on unsteady legs and watched as Morgause calmly walked down the pile of rubble. Predator’s eyes fixed on him with all the focus and concentration of a she-wolf stalking her prey.</p><p>"I don't want to fight you," he tried. Maybe he could make her see sense. The possibility was small. Even smaller than escaping without a fight but he had to try.</p><p>Morgause laughed, "But I do. I'm not done with you yet. You have not suffered enough for the pain, the agony you put Morgana through.” Her face darkened. Merlin shielded his face as her eyes flashed gold and the pieces of rubble around him exploded. She bared her teeth, snared, “My sister!"</p><p>Merlin put his hands up placatingly, "Morgause, <em> listen </em> to me-"</p><p>"No! <em> You </em> listen to <em> me </em> !” Another piece of rubble exploded. The bits of rubble biting into his exposed skin, leaving stinging marks behind. “She trusted you and you stabbed her in the back! You betrayed her! She <em> trusted </em> you and you <em> poisoned </em> her. Your word means <em> nothing </em>."</p><p>"I didn't want to hurt her! It was you who forced my hand. You who made her the heart of the spell without telling her! I know my mistakes. Do you know yours?"</p><p>"Do not presume you can patronize me! Don’t talk to me about matters that you'd never understand. Uther nearly drove my people to the brink of extinction. Those of us that remain live like rats. We know no peace. Why should Uther? Why should any of you, you who know nothing about living with such persecution."</p><p>Merlin felt like his insides were being torn apart. He wanted to shout and rage, ‘You think I know nothing of how you feel! How dare you patronize <em> me </em> ! I live in fear <em>every day</em> that this is the day someone will discover I’m magic and be burned at the stake or hanged. No persecution! Ha! You don’t have to listen to their propaganda every day and hold your tongue.’ But all he could say was, "I'm sorry."</p><p>"No. Not yet. But you will be.” She stalked forward a few feet, heedless of the small stones she ground under her heel. She only had eyes for Merlin. He watched as they flicked up, an expression of self-satisfaction lighting her eyes with a horrifying light. “As soon as I get the cup that I seek, Camelot will fall and Morgana will be crowned the rightful queen."</p><p>“What’s so special about this cup anyway? Why do you want it so bad? Is all this,” he raised his arms, gesturing vaguely around him, “Really worth it?” </p><p>“You wouldn’t understand. You’re just Arthur’s pet servant,” she spat. “It is a cup more powerful than the likes of you could comprehend. It can conquer even death itself. With the Cup in our possession, Morgana and I would easily have Camelot at our mercy.”</p><p>Something clicked in Merlin’s mind.</p><p>“The cup of life. That’s what you’re looking for, isn’t it?” Merlin laughed, high and crazed. “Well, you’ll never find it. The cup is gone. It was destroyed along with the high priestess Nimueh.” </p><p>Morgause paused. “Destroyed?” Her expression shifts between confusion, intrigue, and, finally, eagerness. She laughs. “Well, then, you are no longer of any use to me. <em> Flíe fǽgð </em> .” </p><p>Time seemed to slow as he turned, eyes widening as he watched a sharp rock fly towards Arthur’s hiding place as though in slow motion; the blind prince completely oblivious to the danger he was in. Then time returned. Slamming into him with all the force of a rampaging questing beast and he screamed. Magic exploded from his body as he instinctively moved to save Arthur. No thought in his mind other than the steady mantra of <em> save him, save him, save him. </em>Another wayward burst of magic flung Morgause across the courtyard. She hit the ground with a crunch, rolling a few times before sliding to a stop, limbs spread like that of a broken marionette. She didn’t move. </p><p>Arthur startled, peeking around the debris like a startled stoat.</p><p>Taking the chance, Merlin dashed across the courtyard. Snatching him from his hiding place - which had failed in its one job of hiding him - and sprinted towards the gate at the end of the courtyard.</p><p>“What was that?!” Arthur looked panicked, definitely out of sorts with the increasing anxiety of not being able to see, paired with the pain of his concussion catching up with him. “What happened to Morgause?”</p><p>“A random old guy just showed up out of nowhere and <em> threw </em>her across the courtyard!”</p><p>“An old man? What kind of old man is strong enough to take on a sorceress?”</p><p>Merlin wheezed, “I don’t know. Maybe an old man that can do <em> magic </em>. And old men get underestimated all the time. And servants.” he mumbled under his breath. </p><p>“And what did this old man who can do magic look like?”</p><p>“He had a hideous white beard and wore a long red robe.”</p><p>“Oh. I think I know who you’re talking about. I’ve met him before; the man is obviously a sorcerer.”</p><p>“Can we talk about this at a better time, maybe,” Merlin shouted. Heart in his throat as the guards on the gate wall shot spears and arrows at them. Luckily, Merlin’s magic is still running - instinctively - high and they bounce off his magic shields harmlessly, clattering to the cobblestones.</p><p>They make it through the gate with no further trouble. Merlin beelines for the stables he can see just beyond the gate. </p><p>In the stable, there are a handful of horses. A destrier [1] and a few coursers and rounceys. He hauled Arthur to the charger, as it was the biggest. It would hold both of them and hopefully not be slowed down as much. He guided Arthur to the horse. And then lifted Arthur by one of his legs. “Arthur wrap your hands around its neck, then I’ll give you a boost.”</p><p>Arthur fumbled, feeling around for the horse’s neck, without much success. Merlin grunted, ‘this would be so much easier with a saddle.’</p><p>“Its neck is like two inches from your left hand. Just grab it and lift your leg up more,” he advised. “I don’t want to deal with an angry horse.”</p><p>“I’m trying. It’s a lot harder to mount a horse blind than you’d think.”</p><p>Sweat beaded Merlin’s brow from the physical exertion and the fact that he could hear clanking and shouting coming towards them.</p><p>The guards were coming.</p><p>Panicking, he used magic to finish lifting Arthur onto the horse. The horse snorted and shifted back and forth as his weight hit its back. Fueled by adrenaline, he unlatched the gate before quickly jumping up behind Arthur. Biting back a mortifying sound, as the raw wound on his leg rubbed against the horse’s side, he wrapped his arms tightly around him, “Hold on,” he cautioned, then dug his heels into the horse's sides. </p><p>The horse was well-trained. Immediately, it charged out of the stable - knocking over a few guards in its path - and disappeared into the woods.   </p><p>* * * *</p><p>“I can’t believe we made it out alive.”</p><p>“Well, I can’t believe that I rode a horse with no pants. That is not an experience I want to ever have again.”</p><p>Arthur grinned at him from the comfort of his luxurious down bed. He still couldn’t see properly but Gaius assured him that his vision was getting better each day. He could see shapes now; just blurs of color and the vague outline of what he knew he was seeing but it was miles better than the total darkness he had experienced in Cenred’s dungeon. Merlin lay on a simple padded bedroll - which is actually more comfortable than the bed in his room - on the floor beside his bed.</p><p>Gaius had insisted that they be kept in the same room for the time being; for the ease of having both his patients in one place. Said patients didn’t mind one bit; though, sometimes, Arthur wished that his roommate wasn’t quite so chatty. </p><p>Or so worrying.</p><p>Arthur didn’t think he’d ever forget how his servant’s skin had burned with fever. Infection running rampant through his many wounds. He’d been incoherent for nearly a week before his fever had finally burned itself out. Leaving Merlin even frailer than he had been before. Arthur’s heart squeezed every time he looked at his too prominent collarbones, at the sharpness of his delicate wrist bones and jaw, at the sheer <em> deprivation </em>he could see in Merlin’s body.</p><p>But he was also getting better. His wounds were healing and soon there would be nothing to tell of the trauma he had undergone. </p><p>“Hmm, I’d forgotten about that. Maybe I should throw you in the dungeon for public indecency,” he teased lightly. “A few hours in the stocks would perk you right up.”</p><p>“Ha, ha, you’re such a comedian. I forgot how funny you are. No, wait,” Merlin feigned thinking deeply, “You can’t forget what you never knew.”</p><p>Arthur threw a pillow at him. His shoulders hardly pained him at all anymore. Gaius had told him that it was important to get the muscles used to working again and had prescribed him ‘to throw lots of things at Merlin’.</p><p>Well, he hadn’t phrased it quite like that but it was all basically the same thing in Arthur’s mind. </p><p>Merlin snorted and before he knew it, he’d joined in. Feeling lighter than he had in ages as he just...laughed with someone he could call his dearest friend. </p><p>Eventually, they settled down. </p><p>The only sound in the room was the general clamor of the villagers going about their lives in the lower town and the chirping of birds as they flew past the window. One small bird -  a canary [2] - alighted on the windowsill. It fluffed its wings and tweaked its sweet song, pecking curiously at the stone ledge before taking flight once more. It was completely and irrevocably free, unbound by any of the chains that weighed Arthur down, and just for a moment, he envied that little bird. </p><p>His hands had been tied from the day he’d been born. With his first breath, it had been known that one day he would take on the responsibility of being king. It was his destiny and yet - in his dreams - he couldn’t help wishing for a simpler life.</p><p>Even Cenred, Morgause and so many others had tried to bind him, to break his spirit and drag him down. But he had not broken. </p><p>He couldn’t not when there were still so many loyal to him. </p><p>Like Merlin, like….</p><p>“I hate to say it but it’s a good thing that that old sorcerer showed up,” the sound of his voice surprised him. He hadn’t meant to say the thought out loud but he forged ahead regardless because he was no quitter. “No way were we going to escape with just you fighting off all those guards.”</p><p>“Oh ye of little faith,” Merlin stuck his tongue out. Blue eyes tracing patterns on the ceiling. “Do you think we have to worry about Morgause? What if she comes for that...whatever it was she was talking about. I don’t really remember what she wanted, to be honest. My fever kind of...blurred everything.”</p><p>“Some sort of cup,” Arthur waved a hand dismissively, “I don’t think we have anything to worry about. No mere cup can overthrow Camelot.”</p><p>He was wrong, of course, but that’s a story for another day. For now, here in these nice beds, wounds all wrapped, impossibly comfortable they felt like the story had come to a satisfying close. They had been tortured, used against each other but had come through the other side with their friendship and their lives intact. </p><p>Their hands had been tied; they’d been pushed to the breaking point but somehow, someway they’d rewritten the stars and charted their own course.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Footnotes:</p><p>[1] The most well-known horse of the medieval era of Europe is the destrier, known for carrying knights into war. However, most knights and mounted men-at-arms rode smaller horses known as coursers and rounceys. (A common generic name for medieval warhorses was charger, which was interchangeable with the other terms).</p><p>[2] The canary is a bird that represents freedom. The canary is viewed as a happy bird, who is not bound to the egoic self. Therefore; the canary symbolizes freedom, joy, well-being, and selflessness. The canary is truly free from itself or any of the typical bothers.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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